


Mens Agitat Molem (or: Superman Had It Easy)

by darksylvia



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Ancient Technology (Stargate), Ascension, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:27:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29651301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darksylvia/pseuds/darksylvia
Summary: SGA-1 enters an Ancient outpost. John and Rodney get cut off and have to deal with Ancient technology, an Insane AI, and ascension.Thanks toMelaganfor her artwork (and prompt!). It is posted here:Guardians of Atlantis
Relationships: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Comments: 6
Kudos: 40
Collections: Romancing McShep 2021





	Mens Agitat Molem (or: Superman Had It Easy)

“Please,” Rodney was saying as they emerged from the stargate. “West's Batman was the best.”

“I’m not arguing, I just think that you’re undervaluing Keaton,” said John.

According to Atlantis’ computer, this was an abandoned Ancient outpost. They’d emerged into an antechamber of some sort. John saw stone walls, but daylight flooded down from above. John took point, Rodney just behind with his tablet out to pick up energy readings, Teyla pacing behind Rodney, and Ronon had their six.

When the wormhole closed, John could see a standard Ancient-style door. A quick glance around the gateroom showed nothing more exciting than stone walls. He opened the door with a thought—which absolutely never got old—and the lights in the room behind it raised to a gentle glow.

John walked just inside the room, with Rodney behind him, saying, “Oh, nice, we don’t even have to figure out how to turn the power on—” when the door shut, cutting Ronon and Teyla off.

“Weird,” said John. He eyed the door and thought ‘open’. Rodney scrunched his face which told John he was trying too. It didn’t so much as twitch. John waved a hand over the controls. Nothing. “Hey Rodney. Can you—” he gestured at the door.

“On it,” said Rodney.

John tapped his com and looked around at the rest of the room. “Ronon, Teyla—Mckay is working on the door. Is everything okay out there?”

“It is fine, Colonel. Nothing is happening,” said Teyla.

“Okay, hang on. Let me know if your situation changes.”

“We will...hang,” said Teyla.

John was prepared for cave-ins, lab experiments gone wrong, super weapons, and whatever this world’s equivalent of rats were, but he had not been prepared to get locked inside the outpost itself.

Rodney was tinkering and swearing in the background as John cautiously started to sweep the room. It was mostly bare, and pretty standard in terms of Ancient decor. He’d gotten halfway around when a panel rose from the floor, sort of like the one that rose up when Captain Helia took command of Atlantis.

“Uh, Rodney?”

“What? I’m almost done disconnecting the power.”

“There’s a thing. A panel thing.”

“A panel thing?” Rodney pulled his head out of the circuitry of the door and headed toward John. “That is an entirely unhelpful description, and I told you not to touch anyth—oh.”

“I didn’t touch anything!” said John. “All I did was _think_. In my own head! I wondered what this place was, and that thing popped out of the floor.”

“At least it didn’t try to shoot us,” said Rodney.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. Yet.” Rodney jostled him aside and squinted at the writing on the panel. “It says something about identity—identification. It wants us to identify ourselves.”

“How?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you _think_ at it?” said Rodney sarcastically.

“I could just—” said John, and put his palm on the part that seemed like it fit a palm. The light in the room slowly rose until it was nearly fluorescent and then dimmed back to an ordinary soft glow.

“You are the Guardian of Atlantis,” said a voice. John looked around. He was in a room that looked just like the one he’d been in, but it was noticeably cleaner and brighter. It looked a little like the Replicator’s city. In the center was a Tolkien elf. It raised a hand in greeting.

“I’m Colonel John Sheppard,” John said. “Military Commander of Atlantis. Who are you?”

“I am Methys. You are recognized, and reassigned. Now you are commander of Methys.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, why don’t we get to know each other a little better, first,” said John. “What is this place? I mean, what is it for?”

Methys didn’t move much, but managed an odd kind of shrug.

“I am a facility that creates what is needed for the war against the Wraith.”

“Like weapons?”

“I have a large stock of neurotoxins and poisons that were put into production before my former Guardian abandoned the post. I require you to repair me, Guardian.”

“Repair—I’m sure we can work out something. We can at least try.”

“You _will_ repair me.”

“And if I don’t?”

“You will be recycled.” Here, Methys gave a weird light laugh that sent a bucket of ice down John’s spine. He yanked his hand away from the panel and the room disappeared.

“Colonel, don’t you d—” Rodney was saying. “Great job, Colonel Supergene. Well? What does it do?”

“Like you said, identification,” said John.

“And what does it want with your identification?”

“Well…” said John. “I’ve been identified as a...kind of guardian of Atlantis.”

“And?”

“And...since the Ancients were in a losing war and this place doesn't have one, I’ve been...co-opted. As the new guardian of this outpost.”

“Well, that’s good! You can tell the door to open. And tell this whole place to show us what it’s for!”

“I could,” agreed John. “But I don’t think I should.”

“Why not?” demanded Rodney.

“So...I think this place is a sort of chemical weapons facility. Or at least that’s the vibe I’m getting.”

“The _vibe_ ,” echoed Rodney, incredulously.

“Yeah, but that’s not all. It’s got automated systems like Atlantis, but it’s also got more of a...consciousness than Atlantis.”

“Like a brain? Are you telling me this place has an AI? I hadn’t thought the Ancients went in for that, but as complex as most of their facilities are, it makes sense that systems which are all connected might benefit from an AI to keep track of them, especially if this _is_ a chemical weapons facility.”

“Pretty sure I just met it. Calls itself Methys,” said John. He felt like whispering, but settled on lowering his voice. “And it’s, uh, the AI has been alone for 10,000 years.”

“Did it tell you how big this outpost is? How much power does it need?” demanded Rodney. “Can you talk to it again? Ask it how many, uh, potentia it has.”

“Rodney! Slow down. I could probably talk to it again. But I kinda don’t want to.” John rubbed the back of his neck with the same palm that had touched the panel. “I think you should get that door open and we should leave.”

“But...it’s obviously still got power! We need that power. If it’s an AI maybe we can talk to it and tell it we need however many ZedPMs it’s got powering this thing to keep Atlantis running.”

“Look, lower your voice,” said John, in a half-whisper. “The AI is not...right.”

“Oh,” Rodney paused. “Are we talking Blaine the Mono or an Imperial droid?”

“Closer to Blaine,” said John. “But not that far gone. I think.”

“Okay. Okay,” said Rodney. He paced a few steps and then back. “So we leave. But we have to come back. Maybe with more scientists, and Dr. Webber who has a feel for Ancient computer programming.”

As Rodney strode back to the door panel, John could see he was already planning the second expedition. He started tinkering with a crystal then yelped and yanked his hand back so hard he almost fell over (and would have, if John hadn’t caught him).

“Whoa, what was that?” asked John as he set Rodney on his feet.

“I think…” said Rodney. “I think the AI just gave me the sentient computer equivalent of a smack on the wrist.”

“Can you still get the door open?”

“I don’t know.” Rodney looked around. “If I can’t do it manually by cutting off the power, we might have to blow the control panel. Which, as you know, is not an exact science.” He paused. “I’m going to tell it to open the door.” And before John could stop him, he’d walked over to the raised panel and put his palm on it.

“Rodney!” shouted John. He snatched Rodney’s hand off the panel. “I told you—”

“Yes, yes, it’s definitely a little insane,” said Rodney, shaking out his hand. “That’s why it won’t open the door. Although, I told it that the rest of our team was outside the door, and it said it didn’t need them.” Rodney frowned. “So, we go back to Atlantis and bring more of the science team. We could tweak the AI and add some programming to make it more communicative—”

Then John heard something. It sounded like pounding. Like old pipes being used for the first time in a long time. John tapped his com.

“Teyla, Ronon?” said John.

“We are here, Colonel,” said Teyla. “But there is a strange noise coming from the walls. Are you still unable to open the door?”

The pounding stopped, but then a sort of...hissing started.

“That cannot be good,” said Rodney, glancing wildly around. “Colonel, why did you think this was a chemical weapons facility?”

“Dial Atlantis and go,” said John to Teyla and Ronon. “Tell Carter to send a hazardous materials team, full hazmat suits. We’re heading deeper to see if we can shut this place down.” John waited for Teyla to confirm then turned to Rodney.

“Let’s go.”

"What? Further from the door?" protested Rodney.

"Unless you want a lungful of neurotoxin," said John.

"Good point."

-

John had identified several other doors in his first sweep. He led them to the furthest one, and it opened without hesitation, which John found a little suspicious, but it wasn’t like they could stay in the room with the potentially poisonous gas or whatever it was hissing out near the ceiling.

“Do you know where you’re going?” asked Rodney.

“Away,” said John. “Why, do you have a better idea?”

“No, but I think that if Methys can spritz us with chemical weapons in one room, it can probably do it in other rooms, too.”

“Gee, McKay, you think?” John hustled them through the next room. The lights came on as they passed. “I’m heading for where the power room would be if this were Atlantis.”

“Oh. That’s actually a good idea.” Rodney dug around in his tac vest and found his tablet. “Though your sense of direction is as terrible as always.”

“Hey!” protested John. “This place is a lot weirder than Atlantis, layout-wise.”

“Turn left up here,” Rodney directed. Then: “Right at the third doorway,” and, “Ten meters ahead is a major power center.”

“Major enough for a ZPM?” John didn’t want to get his hopes up, but it would be pretty cool to be able to clear the rest of Atlantis and have enough power left over for flying her, in case they needed to relocate.

“At _least_ one,” said Rodney, not bothering to hide the glee in his voice.

The door to the power room slid open and the lights went on, but this time John held up an arm. They weren’t just going to barrel on in. It was possible they’d gotten too comfortable with abandoned Ancient outposts, but John vowed that if they got out of this one alive, he’d be more vigilant.

“That look familiar, McKay?” asked John, gesturing to a stand in the middle that he recognized.

“Yes!” Rodney almost hit John and nearly dropped his scanner making victory arms.

“Hey, keep those guns under control,” said John, tilting him a smile.

Rodney had already pushed past and was at the controls. There was only one slot, and John could see the amber color of a ZPM emerging. Just as it was nearly accessible, the platform reversed.

“No! No no no, stop that!” Rodney rapidly started pressing buttons.

“Rodney?”

“I’m trying! I can’t exactly overwrite an AI by pressing buttons!” He pulled the plating off the side, reached in and the light all around them abruptly died.

“ _Rodney_ ,” said John.

“Relax, it was me,” Rodney said. “It was the only quick way to stop the AI. I can fix it later. Now, come to daddy.”

John refused to have an inappropriate reaction to the tone of voice Rodney had just used on a damn _ZPM_. Luckily, since Rodney had cut the power, it was pitch dark, and Rodney was too busy murmuring sweet nothings at the ZPM as he coaxed it out of its cradle to notice John’s choked noise. Rodney almost distracted him from the noise he heard in the corridor outside the room.

“The door’s still open,” said John, voice low. "Hurry up."

“I’ve almost got it, just another few seconds—okay!” Rodney shifted closer and groped until his hand hit John in the face. “Are we going? Hiding? What?”

“Ow, jeez, McKay,” John hissed. He tugged Rodney by his tac vest eased them toward the back of the room.

“Another door,” John murmured close to Rodney’s ear. “Get it open. Quietly.”

John felt Rodney grope down his body, then he forcibly wrapped John’s arm around the ZPM. John grasped it, but Rodney kept pawing, hands in a few places that weren’t strictly PG.

“Hey, hey, easy,” said John.

“Drop it and I will kill you,” hissed Rodney.

“I’ve got it, McKay,” said John, fondly exasperated.

“Right,” muttered Rodney, and felt past John to the wall and to the door’s control panel.

The noise from the hallway was getting louder. It was...metallic. John pressed his shoulder against Rodney’s, pulled a length of rope out of his tac vest, and improvised a sling for the ZPM. Then he aimed his P-90 across the room and waited, listening.

“Give me a hand,” whispered Rodney.

John shifted around in the dark until he found Rodney’s hands, which were tugging on the door. When John added his, it started to grudgingly move. Wiggling and shoving it got it open just enough that John thought they might be able to wedge themselves through it. That, of course, is when the thing making the metallic noises arrived at the opposite door. It was too dark to see it, but it _felt_ large. The clicking stopped in front of the door, though there were a few pinging noises, like an overheated engine in there. Abruptly, John put the noises together and came up with a picture of a thousand small metal legs.

John squeezed Rodney’s arm and urged him toward the gap they'd made in the door but Rodney pushed back. It took John a long breathless moment to realize Rodney was taking off his tac vest, and John understood—Rodney couldn’t fit through with it on. John deftly found the side clasps, released them, and dragged it off Rodney. Then he shoved him through the door, slipping after just as the metallic clicks started back up.

John grabbed Rodney before he went too far.

“Help me close it,” John whispered.

It was easier to close than open, but still not exactly light work. They had shoved it most of the way closed when the metallic—chitinous?—noise made a sudden move directly toward them. John wrapped a hand around Rodney’s wrist and tugged him back. It was still pitch black in—wherever they were—but using a flashlight would mean alerting the thing to their location.

Then John definitely heard the door being forced open by what sounded like a thousand tiny knives. He muttered, “Screw it,” and turned on his flashlight.

He got a good look at the thing and wished he hadn’t. It reminded him of a millipede—if millipedes were four feet in diameter and made of shiny metal, which was, for the record, something that should only exist in nightmares.

On the plus side, it hadn’t gotten all the way through the door, but on the minus side, it clearly would manage in under a minute.

“Run,” said John, shoving Rodney in front of him, and aiming the flashlight ahead. They made it down a corridor and through a room he barely saw. Down at the end of another long dark corridor a door whooshed open, the inside lighting up. Rodney stumbled backward into John, who caught him under the arm. They’d clearly come to another part of the facility, which was not powered by the ZPM currently strapped to John’s chest like some sort of alien baby.

“What do you think, Rodney?” asked John. “The frying pan or the fire?”

“The frying pan,” Rodney said, and stepped through the door. John followed and the door shut, blocking out the sound of the metal legs. He moved into the room, alert and wary keeping to the edge. And it was empty—right up until Methys showed up. _On schedule_ , thought John.

Methys was some sort of hologram, now, and nearly three times the size of a normal human. John wasn’t sure if it was a quirk of the insanity, or an intimidation tactic.

“Methys!” said John. “What’s with the smoke and robots?”

“Yeah,” said Rodney. “I thought you wanted us to repair you?”

At first, Methys’ face looked blank, but then the hologram gave an approximation of a smile and said, “I wanted to test your strength and resolve. You are truly Guardians.”

“A _test_?” Rodney couldn’t help but protest. “That’s some serious bull—”

“Well, now that we’ve _passed_ ,” interrupted John, “Maybe you could show us what you want fixed?”

Methys regarded them for a moment, like it did not know what to do with them. If it had ever been programmed to _act_ human, it hadn’t bothered to keep up the pretense.

“There is a room I cannot access. I don’t know why. I require you to connect me with it.”Little things were off: the blink of its eyes too slow, its mouth moved with the words like a badly dubbed movie.

“Fine, fine, where is it?” said Rodney, impatiently, but John knew Rodney, and he could detect the gleeful curiosity underneath. John didn’t blame him—whatever the Ancients felt a need to isolate from the central system had to be pretty cool, or dangerous, or both.

“Hold on,” said John. “You can’t access it _now_ , but you could ten thousand years ago, or you never had access to it in the first place?”

“Huh, that’s a good question,” said Rodney.

“Thank you, Rodney,” said John. “So, can you shed any light on that, Methys?”

“The room predates my existence. I believe it is simply an oversight that I was not connected to it.” Methys hadn’t moved and had forgot to blink or gesture for a few moments. It was uncomfortable to watch—full uncanny valley.

“So...you don’t know why you can’t access it,” concluded John. “Do you know what’s in it?”

“I do not know,” said Methys.

“But you can guess,” prodded John.

“I believe it is an experimental laboratory. I do not know what the subject was. I know only that I do not know.” Methys paused, eyes glinting. Now John thought of reptiles, maybe a crocodile. ”I must be connected to this room. It should be part of me.”

Then Methys gestured and a schematic of the outpost appeared. It looked sort of like the Pentagon but significantly smaller. Corridors ran through five distinct sections. The room Methys identified was in the middle. This place clearly wasn’t a city-ship, but a permanent, underground base. There weren’t very many rooms indicated on the map, and most of them were large. John started to have an inkling that this place was much more interesting than an outpost, or even a chemical weapons facility.

“Can you show us the route?” asked John.

“And call off that robot insect horror-show that was chasing us!” added Rodney.

“The Edacium detects organic matter in inactive areas and consumes it,” said Methys. “You will not be in danger.”

“Like Pest control?” asked Rodney.

“Neat,” said John. “And terrifying.”

“This is the path you must take,” said Methys, and a lighted line appeared in the schematic.

“Wait a minute, why not _this_ way—it looks a lot more straightforward,” said John, tracing a finger over a much shorter route.

“It is unsafe,” said Methys, carelessly. It was not stated as a warning, but more like someone would say, ‘it’s raining.’

“ _Very_ helpful,” muttered Rodney.

John considered. He was willing to trust Methys’ path _to_ the room, but he definitely wasn’t going to trust anything it said after. In all likelihood, whatever was in the room was safer out of the grasp of Methys. Still, they should obviously play along and check it out. He looked at Rodney and wiggled his eyebrows, and Rodney shrugged and opened his hands as if to say, ‘why not?’

“Alright, Methys, you’ve got yourself a deal,” said John. “Let’s go, Mckay.”

-

The next section they passed through reminded John of the underwater lab. Maybe it was the lack of windows, or maybe just the oppressive presence of Methys in the back of his mind, but it made him jumpy. Each area lit up well before they approached, and there were, thankfully, no noises, alarmingly metallic or other. It was an easy ten-minute walk to the appointed room. That just made John more nervous.

When they reached the door, John put a hand in front of Rodney to stop him.

“Did you just mom arm me?” Rodney shook his head, “Nevermind. Can you sense anything?”

John gave the door panel a tentative mental prod, but he expected—and got—nothing.

“Nope,” said John. “I guess we’ll just have to open it and see.”

“There had better not be, I don’t know, a shadow entity that’s been imprisoned inside waiting to get out.”

“The odds of that happening twice...” said John, and waved a hand over the sensor.

The door opened, the light inside rose. It looked bare. John couldn’t see a control console or equipment. Cautiously, he stepped over the threshold, P-90 raised. Nothing happened. Rodney stepped after him. The door closed, but when Rodney waved a hand, it re-opened easily, then slid closed again. John took another cautious step.

“Well, it doesn’t look that important—” started Rodney.

A blindingly bright flash of light filled the room. John slammed his eyes closed, reached out and grabbed Rodney, and dragged them both down to the floor. John waited.

Nothing else happened.

“John?” Rodney said. The light was already receding, but John was still blinking spots out of his eyes.

“What the hell was that light?” John asked.

“No idea. Probably something bad. Maybe we have cancer now, I don’t know. Why are we still on the floor?”

John rolled to his feet, and then helped Rodney, groaning and clutching his back, back up.

“There has to be a screen or controls around here somewhere,” said John, looking around.

“Leave that to me,” said Rodney briskly starting to search the walls. “And don’t you dare touch anything.”

John put up his hands and gave Rodney a mock-wounded look as he backed away from the wall. “I was just looking!”

“Uh huh,” said Rodney. “Why don’t you think ‘reveal’ at the wall, or something useful that _is not_ ‘on’.”

No sooner than he’d said it, the far wall projected a screen, and some Ancient script started to scroll. Rodney was in front of it in a flash. John always meant to start learning some Ancient, but he somehow never got around to it. Besides, most machines just did what he wanted them to do when he needed it.

“What does it say?” asked John.

“It says we’re in trouble,” said Rodney.

“How much trouble, and what kind?” demanded John.

“It’s okay. I mean, it’s not okay, but we can relax, sort of.” Rodney waved a hand, and took a step away from the screen to look at John. His eyes were troubled and his mouth was tilted down. “At least Methys wasn’t lying—it can’t access the room.”

Rodney had a defeated posture that John emphatically did not like. He sat down on the floor in front of the screen. After a moment, John shifted his P-90 and the ZPM and joined him.

“What’s wrong, Rodney? What is this room for?”

“We’re in another fucking ascension lab,” said Rodney. “That bright light was some sort of DNA editor. Doubtless it was the pet project of yet another ascension-obsessed Ancient, and maybe he was even competing against the one who built the machine on Atlantis.”

“How soon?” asked John, after a long moment.

“Til we die or ascend?” asked Rodney. “Does it really matter?”

“Hey, we’re not dead yet. It took you nearly a week to get bad, and you got superpowers first,” said John. “Could we use the machine in Atlantis to reverse it?”

“I don’t know—maybe. Assuming we can get out of here and back to Atlantis. I don’t think we have a week, though. Plus, we’re trapped, we don’t have much food, and oh yeah, that AI is going to be homicidal whether or not I let it into this room.”

“Here.” John shoved a powerbar into Rodney’s hand. “You get real pessimistic when you’re hungry.” John got up and stretched, then started rearranging his ZPM sling.

“How are you being so calm about this?!” demanded Rodney, mouth full.

“Simple—If I get superpowers, I’m going to use them to disable the AI and get us out of here. Then back in Atlantis, you and Zelenka are going to think us out of this mess.”

“Oh, sure, just assume that I can perform a miracle again—” Rodney sat up like he’d had an idea, then very carefully took the time to eat the last two bites of the bar.

“You do usually manage to deliver, McKay,” John said, giving Rodney a helplessly fond smile. “But if you don’t, it’s okay. At least we’re not on a Wraith ship. Or being tortured.”

“Being held captive by an Ancient AI isn’t _that_ much better,” said Rodney. “But I might have an idea.” He leaned toward the screen again.

-

“Waiting to ascend is really boring,” said John.

All he got from Rodney was a distracted hum. John had searched the room for more components of the machine, while Rodney entered search queries. All he’d found was a sort of mini-ZPM that was powering the room independently of Methys, which fed into the mechanism that performed the instant gene editing, and now Rodney was reading everything the machine would tell him. John sat down cross-legged in the center of the room and repacked his tac vest. When that was done, he rearranged his ZPM sling. When that was done, he field stripped his P-90 and then put it back together.

“How’s it going, McKay?”

“Aside from, you know, everything,” Rodney gestured vaguely around them, “I’ve found that this machine is _not_ exactly the same as the one in Atlantis.”

“So we’re not gonna die?” John hadn’t quite been able to get worked up about it in the first place. In reality, he knew he might die on each mission, even the boring ones, so it wasn’t like this was that different. They weren't dead _yet_ and he felt fine. 

“Maybe. It speeds up the evolution of the DNA along a certain path, like the other one.” Rodney hadn’t looked away from the screen. “But with one important difference: it programs in a certain flexibility to the neural synapses. There are more connections, like the ones that gave me superpowers, but they’re changeable, like they are in children.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, it might mean a little psychedelic field trip, or it might mean full-blown psychosis.” This time Rodney turned around to look at John. “ _Or_ we might be lucky and just get smarter. Theoretically. I think it’s supposed to help with the “spiritual” part of ascension. Obviously, I’m skeptical. But in theory, we’d be able to ascend for real.”

“I don’t want to ascend, McKay,” said John. He set his gun aside.

“Neither do I!” Rodney waved his arms. “We’ve both had a chance and both turned it down. But I don’t think we’ve got a choice. I think we have to just hope we can ascend and come back.”

“So—what? We meditate, maybe trip, and prepare to ascend?”

“Do you have any better ideas?” asked Rodney.

John was silent for a long moment. “Do you remember what it felt like? When you were about to—”

“Somewhat,” said Rodney. He shifted closer to where John was sitting.

“Me too. Kinda.” John had felt almost like a different person in that time dilation field, meditating and doing simple manual labor. He wasn’t sure he liked that. John knew he was an adaptable person, but that didn’t mean he liked being forced into change. “I guess it couldn’t hurt to get comfortable and give it a try. Until the cavalry comes.”

“Or the super powers kick in,” said Rodney. “Wait, now _I’m_ being way too calm about this.”

“You just said, we’ve had our brains altered.” John shifted around and leaned back. “Here, lay down. Maybe you’ll be better at meditating this time.” Rodney lay down next to John on the floor, shoulder to shoulder, with way less complaining than John expected, and they breathed together.

“Why’d the whole room flash?” asked John.

“Mass ascension, probably. When the Wraith war was getting really dire.”

“Huh,” said John. Then, “So when _do_ the super powers kick in?”

“I don’t know. Can you move things with your mind yet?”

There was a short silence while John and Rodney both attempted to levitate something with their minds. Nothing happened.

“Entertain me, Rodney.”

“I am not your performing monkey,” said Rodney indignantly, which made John laugh, maybe harder than it should have.

“I just...I just pictured it,” gasped John, which should have made Rodney even more indignant but instead it set him off too. Every time John so much as glanced at Rodney, it got him again, just from Rodney’s face, which had turned ruddy with laughter. He laughed so hard his sides hurt.

When he was finally calming down, he thought about how nice it would be just to be able to switch Methys off with his mind. He imagined moving through the power conduits, turning off Methy’s access little by little until he had the AI contained to one unimportant section where he could safely reprogram it. Then he thought about how there were probably at least two other ZPMs somewhere in this place, just judging by the power output he had already witnessed. Maybe there was a stockpile. Maybe there was even a way to _make_ them.

His imagination spiralled wider, and he saw that each room would have its own function, something it was programmed to make, and each of the five sections of the base would have its own power source, separated both for function and for safety...

John felt Rodney sit up abruptly.

“Was that your thought or mine?” demanded Rodney.

“What?” asked John. He opened his eyes to Rodney looming over him. It was a position he’d had a few pleasant thoughts about, but not with the threat of impending ascension involved.

“Traveling through the power conduits, starving Methys of power,” said Rodney, impatiently. “Were you just thinking about it?”

“I _thought_ it was mine.” John sat up, too. “Mind reading?”

“Nevermind, it doesn’t matter, because—this isn’t a chemical weapons facility.” Rodney said it with a manic edge to his voice.

“The probably-poisonous gas would seem to dispute that, Rodney,” said John.

Rodney scrambled to his knees and toward the screen. He called up what little information it had about the rest of the outpost. It had a few labels for the other rooms on the schematic, but that was about it. However, it made Rodney nod his head, like it confirmed something.

“No, it can _make_ poisonous gas,” said Rodney. “Because it’s basically a 3D printer. This whole place is a 3D printer!”

“But we already have those, right?” said John. “You and Radek were printing action figures with it last week.”

“We have one that uses plastic and metal, yes. This one uses _atoms_. It can literally create _anything_.” Rodney stopped, his face doing that thing where he got starry-eyed over some new technology. “Oh my god, this is why we could never find factories. The Ancients didn’t need factories! They had places like this! We can print a puddle jumper! Maybe even a ZedPM!”

“This place can _print_ a ZPM?” John knee-walked over to Rodney to peer over his shoulder at the base map.

“ _Anything_ , John. This place can create anything made of matter, which is, you know, _everything_. That must be how the AI has kept it going for so long. It can just make whatever it needs.” Rodney zoomed in on a few rooms and concluded, “I think they have different areas for differently-sized objects. You can’t make a spaceship in a tiny lab.”

John stood up abruptly, startling Rodney.

“We need to take this facility.”

“Uh, _yeah_ ,” said Rodney. “Isn’t that basically what I just said?”

“Teyla should have been back with reinforcements by now. Which probably means Atlantis couldn’t dial in, or once they got here they couldn’t get out of the gate room, and Methys is probably interfering with our comms.”

“So we’re on our own,” concluded Rodney.

“For now. Until we take the gateroom.” John looked around the room, thinking. “What we need is a way to push back Methys’ territory. Like in our,” he made a face, “Mind-meld just now. Shut off power to it.”

Rodney was already nodding, excitedly.

“When we came, I assumed there would be a central power room, but it seems more spread out—the power demands of fabricating things from atoms are—”

“McKay,” John interrupted.

“Right, right. So there’s probably no central power room, just rooms like the one we got that ZedPM in.” Rodney reached out and patted the one strapped to John’s chest in a proprietary manner and looked thoughtful. “We _could_ try and take the base ZedPM by ZedPM, disconnect the sections until Methys doesn't exist anymore.”

“Like football,” said John. “Yard by yard.”

“If football was a series of complex electronic networks, sure.”

“Exactly,” said John, grinning. “So you take care of the wiring, and I’ll take care of the robots.”

“I’m not sure how we’re going to avoid the neurotoxins,” said Rodney. “And, again, this place can make anything. If there were plans for it, or even out of his own twisted imagination, Methys can make and use any weapon it wants.”

“So we’ll have to be unpredictable,” said John. “And work fast.”

“We’re up against an AI,” said Rodney. “It can run probability scenarios in nanoseconds.”

“Yes,” said John. “But Rodney—” John paused dramatically, then grinned so hard his face hurt. “I have superpowers.” He levitated the last powerbar over until it hit Rodney in the chest.

-

It took them the better part of an hour to hammer out a strategy while looking at the schematics. They thought they knew roughly where the other—estimated—three ZPM rooms were, based on the location of the first one they’d found, the schematic, and Rodney’s energy readings.

Once they took the first one, disconnected the ZPM, disconnected the power, and fired it back up, reset and AI-free, Methys would definitely know what they were trying to do. It followed that they should take the stargate-adjacent ZPM first. Taking the second one would be hard, but necessary. Rodney considered the third pushing it.

“We won’t need the last one yet,” Rodney argued. “We can wait for help from Atlantis. Reinforcements or whatever.”

“But we don’t know what other tricks Methys has up its sleeve,” said John. “If we give it any quarter, it could flood everything with neurotoxins or program a self-destruct.”

“Hm.” Rodney clearly hadn’t thought of a self-destruct. “I suppose.”

“Trust me, McKay, we don’t want to give that thing any leeway.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Rodney said. “Methys gives me the creeps, but is it _actually_ crazy? Like, enough to destroy itself in order to destroy us?”

“Yes,” said John. “You couldn’t tell? You touched that first panel, too. Didn’t you _feel_ it?”

“No.” Rodney frowned. “I was in a nicer, newer room, and Methys was there talking to me, but I didn’t feel anything.”

“Listen, it felt wrong. Like—” John tilted his head, thinking. “I don’t know, like an anxiety dream. Like I knew something was urgently wrong, but not how to fix it.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll take your word for it. Definitely Blaine the Mono.” Rodney was back to looking at the schematic. “I think we need a different strategy for the third room, then.”

“What do you suggest?”

“I may not be able to levitate anything—yet—” said Rodney. “But I _am_ feeling more brilliant than usual I think we can trap Methys. By giving it exactly what it wants: access to this room.”

“So we lure it into this room.” John tilted his eyebrows. “If an AI is part of the whole base, how do you know it’s ‘in’ anything?”

“If I manufacture a power brownout before I shut down the last ZedPM console, it should be forced to go here, as the last power source. We’re cutting off its limbs. And once it’s inside,” continued Rodney, eyes bright, “We disconnect this room from the rest of the power! It’s not like an AI can ascend.”

“Okay.” John. “Now let’s figure out how we’re going to get there.”

-

“Faster, McKay!” said John, and gave him a shove as the sound of metal behind them got closer. He’d hoped not to have a repeat encounter with pest-control robots, but here they were.

“There!” Rodney panted and skidded sideways into the corridor. John was right behind him, closing the door with a thought, and then keeping it closed by mental force.

As predicted, disconnecting the _first_ ZPM had been almost easy. Rodney had cut it off from the rest of the base, reset it, and powered it back up, Methys free.

When they’d entered ZPM area two, Methys had appeared, less substantial-looking than before, but more animated.

“What are you doing?” it had demanded.

“All part of the process,” John had reassured it.

“The room you want to access needs to be connected at half-power,” supplied Rodney. “Let me work!”

Methys had disappeared without a word, and they’d gotten to the second ZPM room with minimal difficulty, though one corridor had half-fallen into a sinkhole, and getting over that was not exactly fun.

But then it got tricky. They had to leave section two disconnected in order to make it to the third section. Methys couldn’t manifest without power, but it still had influence, as evidenced by the nightmare robots that were now chasing them.

“Just when you thought the Ancients couldn’t surprise you anymore,” panted John. He unloaded several rounds into a robotic mutant-bear-thing, and when that only slowed it a little, used his new-found power to shunt it into a side room and slam a door in its face. He wished he had more time to appreciate how cool that was.

“Coming up to the third section,” said Rodney.

There was one last large room in the powered section, standing between them and the third ZPM control room. They had no way of knowing what was in it or what sort of crap Methys could throw at them.

As the door slid open, and the lights beyond came on, and John braced himself before stepping through. The room was large enough to be a warehouse, although like all things Ancient, it was decorated more like a cathedral, with a high arched ceiling, and what looked like gate symbols snaking along the walls. But that wasn’t what caught his eye.

In the center stood a massive ship. It was more graceful than the Aurora-class ships he’d seen, less utilitarian, and pleasing to the eye.

“Wow,” said John, under his breath. “We are definitely coming back for that.”

“Obviously,” agreed Rodney.

The rest of the space was empty, until Methys appeared.

“Just in time for the evil monologue,” said John.

“Maybe even a little late,” said Rodney.

“You have betrayed your Guardianship,” intoned Methys, its voice losing all semblance of pleasant, human-like tones, and sliding into a horrible shrill harmonic. “You have not repaired me. You have _reduced_ me.” The hologram grew in size, and Methys appeared to be having an emotion. If John had to name it, it was cold rage. “As such, I revoke your charge. You will now be recycled.”

“Wait!” said John, holding up a hand. “Don’t you want to know what’s in the room?”

“Yeah, the super special room you couldn’t see into?” put in Rodney.

“You were to connect me! Instead you have severed me!” shrilled Methys.

“It’s because of what’s in the room, Methys,” said John earnestly. He nonchalantly took a few steps closer to the ZPM room. “And we did all this so you could be connected to it. Just let Rodney connect the last part.”

“You are not to be trusted. You are not true Guardians.” But John thought Methys looked a little uncertain.

“I am hurt by that,” said John. “I’ll tell you what. Let Rodney try, and if you still think we’re not real Guardians after, you can recycle us, or whatever.”

“Very well,” said Methys. The rage had simmered down, but the crocodile interest was back. John thought that might be worse. He gestured Rodney toward the ZPM room. The door opened without difficulty, John positioned himself in the doorway, and Rodney got to work. A few minutes later, Rodney raised his head and nodded. John nodded back.

“Hey, Methys! Room’s open!” shouted John.

Methys flickered into view, then vanished abruptly. John detonated the C4 they'd planted on the conduit into the ascension room. They waited, John holding his breath, to see if they'd timed it right. Methys did not reappear, but the real test would be to see if they were still alive in a few minutes.

“Did it work?” asked Rodney, head popping up from behind the ZPM hub.

“I think so.” John scanned the ship room again. “If it hadn’t, we’d probably know.”

“True.” Rodney got to his feet and leaned against the ZPM hub.

“Hey, you okay?” asked John, coming over to rest a hand on Rodney’s shoulder and search his face.

“Yeah, sure.” Rodney waved him away. “You know I hate running.”

“I’m pretty tired, too.” John gave his shoulder a squeeze. “At least when we finally get back to Atlantis, we’ll have some good news. C’mon, let’s go.”

“Just levitate me, would you?” groaned Rodney. He dropped his head forward onto John’s shoulder.

John laughed, hesitated, and then dared to cup a hand over Rodney’s neck. They stood like that for a long moment.

“Hey,” said Rodney. “If you ascend—”

“I’m not going to ascend, Rodney. We’re going to find a way to reverse this.”

“Okay, right, but _if_ you ascend, I don’t want to be—” Rodney took a deep breath. “Please take me with you.”

“Rodney.” It was John’s turn to take a deep breath. He cupped Rodney’s face, and urged him up. “Look at me.”

Rodney raised his head, an uncertain look on his face.

“Neither of us are going anywhere,” said John, and kissed him.

Of course, that’s when the giant crab stuck a huge pincer into the room and almost crushed them both to death, which would have been funny if it weren’t so genuinely horrifying.

-

“Methys must have reprogrammed it,” panted Rodney as they sprinted for the stargate. “It shouldn’t be able to operate in powered areas.”

“Less talking, more running,” said John.

“I can do both!” said Rodney. “Turn left!”

They made it to the antechamber to the gate room at the same time as the mutant jellyfish thing. That probably would have been okay, but then a fine mist spouted from its tentacles.

“Go!” yelled John. They sprinted for the door. They could make it, they could make it, they…

Rodney slumped to the floor in front of him. John caught him before he hit his head, but ended up going down himself.

“Rodney!”

“John. M’ascending,” said Rodney.

“Sure you are, buddy,” said John. He looked up, and around. The jellyfish didn’t move forward, just hovered there menacingly, and the mist had dissipated, though that just meant it had already done its job. John’s mind felt fuzzy around the edges, but there was also something strange going on in the rest of his body. It was hard to pin down. He thought, maybe, all the tiny pieces—cells, idiot—were trying to fix something that had gone wrong—neurotoxin cocktail—

A nap would be really awesome right now. Just as he was considering laying his head down next to Rodney—who always looked like a great person to take a nap on—his comm crackled to life.

“Colonel Sheppard, come in,” said Teyla’s voice.

“Teyla!” John dredged up a small burst of energy. He knew it was important. “We’re right inside. Wear gas masks and mind the jellyfish—”

He slowly slumped next to Rodney and felt really calm. He figured he was either going to ascend or pass out right now. He’d worry about it later.

-

When he woke, he was in the infirmary in Atlantis. It was a depressingly familiar, if mostly comforting, sight. It took him a long, hazy moment before he could scrape his brain together enough to try and sit up.

“Hello, John,” said Teyla, from beside his bed.

“Rodney?” he croaked out.

“Here,” Rodney said hoarsely from his other side, in a matching bed.

“You are both fine,” said Teyla. “Dr. Keller believes the toxin has cleared from your bodies with no ill effects. Rest now.”

“The outpost?” asked Rodney.

“Colonel Carter sent several marines to guard the gateroom, and awaits your field report. No one has entered the outpost since we retrieved you.” Teyla paused. “I have already given my report, including all that I saw as we found you. I believe Colonel Carter is very impatient to learn of what you found, especially after retrieving the ZPM that was attached to Colonel Sheppard.”

Rodney smiled at her. “That’s the least of it.” He turned his head toward John.

“Did we—” he said.

“Pretty sure,” said John. Rodney wore a half-smile, but he looked serious.

“Okay. Okay. Wow.”

“Rest now,” said Teyla. “Ronon will be back soon with something to eat.”

-

A few days later they were sitting on the pier in the afternoon sun. John was barefoot, even though it was getting kind of chilly out.

“Was it everything you imagined?” John gave him a sidelong grin.

“Eh,” said Rodney.

“What?” said John. “You made such a big deal about Chaya and me, and all you can say is ‘eh’?

“Don’t get me wrong,” said Rodney. “It was glowy and special and everything.”

“But?” said John.

Rodney was silent for a long moment, and John thought maybe he wasn’t going to answer.

Then he said, “I _know_ you, John. It didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already kinda know.”

“Oh.” John couldn’t look away.

“Yeah, well.” Rodney shrugged a little.

“Hey, Rodney.”

“Wha—” he started, before John kissed him, once, firmly.

“Me too,” said John. Then he kissed Rodney again, and this time Rodney got with the program and kissed back, leaning forward.

It was a long time before John broke off, panting a little and splayed out on the pier, with Rodney braced over him.

“It would have been cool if we got to keep the superpowers, though,” said John.

“Batman is cooler than Superman anyway,” said Rodney.

“Yeah.” John nodded soberly. “Superman had it easy.” He pulled Rodney back down.


End file.
